cocaine…




the worse scene

Originally uploaded by jayfherron.

Not very long into my new life in Micanopy I became aqainted with a fellow who was knowledgeable in how to take pounds of marijuana and make them into smallers sacks and was able to sustain his life by delivering these here and there. I had not been this closely associated with drugs and this was an interesting position to be in during the 1970’s when a person in hippie lifestyle was a handler of pot and other things of that assortment they earned a place of prominance among the hippie crowd. I wanted to be seen like that , although my dealing pot was merely as looking over my friends shoulder and watching and yet shareing in part of the rewards. I never had money of my own…it was always shared with me by my friend until one day I realized he was pursueing me and was useing the gifts as a way to use me…until I could’nt do this any more and fled.
Lets just skip through some years and with that introduction to offer admission that my past has a history of drug use-most introduced through this aqaintance from back then. So we return to the woods where I continue to live today and right about the time I find my wife alone with someone else and we go our seperate ways…you have to read all of these stories to understand how this fits-and about 1982 I was given an opportunity by an older man who admired my spunk because he knew how I walked to work almost all my working life…he was a tombstone cutter,and he wanted to teach me his trade.
So we set up a shop-his money and my being the sole operater since he ran a full time business otherwise.
There were four business’ on that strip-mine,Roys and a concrete construction office and a garage with a mechanic. One day the mechanic came in my small office and display area and was admireing the smoothness of some pieces of polished granite and he made a few hints and soon had scraped a few lines of cocaine on one of the smooth surfaces on a stone. It was my first try which lasted nearly 35,000 dollars long.
Cocaine is strange business-a high that only really lasts about 20 minutes but shortly insists that you need and deserve another line to keep the blast from the one before going. The drainage from it floating into your sinus from your nostrol is perhaps the most sweetest flavor and one keeps clearing thier nose through thier throat to extract the taste and flavor of a few more seconds of the boost the drug gives. I robbed my sons every night-night after night-stealing everything they should have been eating to be sure I was satisfied first. They had food-but not the best food. I don’t know who hated the coke worse…me or them-perhaps we were equally wanting it to leave.
I lasted that way for nearly a year-hid it from everyone except my sons and my dealer. It collaspsed in a funny odd way….a prostitute told me her services were meant for men and I was nothing like a man because cocaine was my only satisfaction-she said to me real men did not use coke to stand up. I thought she was wacko until I went elsewhere and a second prostitute said pretty much the same thing-but told me how to seek help. And I did-took nearly another year…but coke as a powder never hit my nose again. Don’t pat me on the back yet….I fell a couple of other ways a couple of other times.
The night the prostitutes entered the scene was a night that desperation was going to begin its task to bring me down because my dealers had all said no pay no powder and there was no money anywhere and my need was bad….so it was advice from the prostitute that saved me. I was fortunate then. I think it was angels.
I’d stay up all night from dark to dawn getting my nerves rattled more and more as the night wore through-gritting my teeth nearly grinding them into pieces from the force the drug had on my nervous system…it caused sexual rages that yearned to contribute to my personal self abuse….my ‘damage contol’ talked about in earlier pieces,causing me to go out to re-enact my rapes and keeping me constantly tortured inside.
It was an oddly funny thing how the mere noise of the razor blade scooping through and cutting up the lines could instill this feeling inside of the anticipation of getting a bump…a line to sniff. Almost nearly a year after I kicked off of it the sight of a maroon and silver car would make my body scream for cocaine…those being the colors of one of my dealers cars.
I did stay clean for a good long while until one time I was introduced to another highly ruiness drug-an overnight experience that was not quite as costly …but costly never the less.
I have had this battle beaten long long gone-never could I consider such stupidity now.

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